


Of Good and Evil

by hellacluttered



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Angst, Vasquez - Freeform, but also happiness, joshua faraday - Freeform, mag7 - Freeform, the magnificent seven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24422041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellacluttered/pseuds/hellacluttered
Summary: A broken post-Rose Creek Vasquez searches for something to live for, some reason to keep going.Prompt: "We’re sitting at the kitchen table confessing our sins”*****Hey there, Vas.”He choked at the familiar voice, coughing a mouthful of liquor across the table, eyes watering as the whiskey burned his lungs.It had to be his eyes were fooling him, or his mind was going, because in the chair opposite, one leg crossed over the other comfortably, the old gleam in his bright eyes, sat Joshua Faraday, a cigarillo on his lip, and his guns on his hips.“Faraday?” he breathed the word, almost a prayer, scared to blink lest he find himself alone again.“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” Faraday said, a smirk on his weathered face.
Relationships: faraday/vasquez brotp
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Mag7 Summer Swagbag Challenge





	Of Good and Evil

An owl hooted somewhere outside, the lonely sound loud in the still night. Vasquez leaned back in his chair, tilting it up on its back legs, eyes closed in the dim. The light of the single lantern on the table danced across his features, casting skeletal shadows around his eyes and hollowed cheeks. He was a dead man walking most of these days.

He raised his glass, tossing down another sip of the whiskey that burned his throat and sent heat sparking through his chest, warding off the chill of the rising night. 

A heavy feeling of bitterness had settled somewhere deep in his gut weeks ago, and he hadn’t been able to shake it, nor knew if he wanted to anymore. So long he had gone without a cause, and so hard he had held onto the one he had found. With it gone, he was overwhelmed again by the emptiness of what he called life. 

As well as feeling his heart had been cut to pieces by the losses they had taken, he was being smothered by the heaviness of what was ahead of him, of what was around him - nothing, nothing at all. Nothing that mattered.

A younger Vasquez would have blinked away the tears that welled up now in his eyes - a younger Vasquez would have thought them un-manly. But the older man cared little for those things, and knew he had been foolish. 

His glass had rested in his lap, and he raised it again, toasted the empty chair across from him, and took another sip.

“Hey there, Vas.”

He choked at the familiar voice, coughing a mouthful of liquor across the table, eyes watering as the whiskey burned his lungs. 

It had to be his eyes were fooling him, or his mind was going, because in the chair opposite, one leg crossed over the other comfortably, the old gleam in his bright eyes, sat Joshua Faraday, a cigarillo on his lip, and his guns on his hips.

“Faraday?” he breathed the word, almost a prayer, scared to blink lest he find himself alone again.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” Faraday said, a smirk on his weathered face.

Vasquez just stared at him for a long moment. “Easily,” he said finally.

“Huh?”

“That  _ easily _ . Grammar.”

“You haven’t changed,” Faraday uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

Vasquez watched him suspiciously, and took a slow sip of his whiskey. If the liquor was making him see things, perhaps it would help him un-see them. If this was the workings of his imagination, it needed to stop. He didn’t think his battered heart could take it.

“You just gonna sit there?” Faraday’s voice interrupted his drink, and Vasquez set the glass on the table with a quiet thump.

“I don’t know what to say,” Vasquez said. “I thought you died.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Faraday asked. “That’s beside the point, anway.”

“Is it?” Vasquez’s voice sharpened, rising slightly. “Is it beside the point that I searched through a pile of rubble and charred flesh, and all I could find of you was a couple cards?”

Faraday’s face softened, his brow loosening. “That’s not what I’m saying,” Faraday said. “I’m saying I’m not here about me.”

“Then what?” Vasquez asked.

“You’re not living much these days, are you?” Faraday asked.

Suddenly defensive, Vasquez sat back, arms crossing. “What would you know of it?”

“You haven’t been out of here in days,” Faraday said. “To be frank, I’m worried about you, Vas.”

“Well so am I; apparently I’ve begun hallucinating,” Vasquez said.

“Pour me a drink, will you?” Faraday asked.

“I only have one glass.” Vasquez refilled it, and pushed it across the table to Faraday, who took a slow sip, savoring the taste.

“You know, when I lost my mama, I thought I was lost,” he said. “Thought I didn’t have much left to live for.”

“So what did you do?” Normally Vasquez would have resisted any poking at his feelings, but tonight he was vulnerable. And if he was only talking to a figment of his own imagination, what did it matter?

“Waited,” he said. “Figured if I was still here, I was here for some reason. Turns out I was here to raise a lotta hell.”

Vasquez chuckled. “That seems about right.” They sat in silence for a moment, and Vasquez’s small smile faded. He looked up at Faraday, his dark eyes wide and honest. “I don’t understand why I survived. Lord knows I’ve done more than my fair share of bad things. Certainly more than Billy, probably more than you.”

Faraday laughed. “I don’t know about that.”  
“You weren’t wanted, Güero,” Vasquez said.

“Yeah, well, I also wasn’t Mexican. I don’t imagine that put you at an advantage with whatever Ranger you shot.”

“Could be,” Vasquez said. “I had to do it.”

“I shot a man in Phoenix,” Faraday said. “Didn’t have to do it. He’d been following me, said I cheated him; he wanted another round of cards to win his money back and I didn’t want to play.”

“Did you cheat him?” Vasquez asked into the pause.

Faraday scowled, offended. “You think that little of me?”

“I… Sorry, I-”

Faraday cracked, his mouth curving into a grin and he laughed. “‘Course I cheated him.” Then the smile on his lips faded. “He started a fistfight, and I pulled and shot him dead behind the bar. Then I ran like hell to the stables and rode out of there. Left him lyin’ in the dust.”

“I’ve stolen the better part of the food I’ve eaten these last five years,” Vasquez admitted. The words tasted sour in his mouth and to admit it hurt his pride deeply.

“C’mon, that’s all you can think of?” Faraday said. “If that’s really the worst you’ve done, it’s no wonder you outlived me.”

Vasquez chuckled drily. “I’m just getting started.”

“Then fill up that glass,” Faraday said. “If we’re gonna sit at the kitchen table confessing our sins, I’m gonna need to be a little drunk to do it.”

“You need to be a little drunk to do  _ anything _ ,” Vasquez said, but refilled the glass anyway and slid it across the table to Faraday.

“I met this sweet young thing in Charlottesville, back when I was in my twenties. Talked her into courting me, and we were going for a couple months. Course I started thinking with my dick, and I took her to bed with me - she only agreed cause she thought I was there to stay - and then I left the next morning.”

“Why?” Vasquez asked incredulously.

“Spent all night gettin’ more and more scared of committing myself to someone like that,” Faraday said. “I ain’t proud of it, but at least I know myself.”

“Well that’s something at least,” Vasquez said. He took the glass, swirled the amber fluid inside, and took a long draw from it. “What’re we doing here, Güero?”

“The way I see it, we’re gonna dig down until you realize you’re a good man. Then you’re gonna start living again,” Faraday said.

Vasquez shrugged. It didn’t sound like much of a plan to him, but it was Faraday asking, and he didn’t want to say no. The longer he could keep him around, the better… even if it  _ was _ because he was losing his mind. “When I was farther east than we are now, I got in a shootout with a man,” he said. “I won. When I left town, I rode past his widow and kid crying over his body. I wanted to help them, I really did. But then she looked up at me, and the hatred in her eyes-” he shook his head, dark eyes distant. “I kept riding.”

“What caused the fight?” Faraday asked.

“He was trying to chase me out of town,” Vasquez said. “Said I didn’t belong. Things… got out of hand.”

“So he was an asshole anyway,” Faraday said.

“Sure, but-”

“You didn’t start it,” Faraday said. “What were you gonna do, let ‘im shoot you?”

“No, but that doesn’t make the memory of it any sweeter,” Vasquez said. 

“Y’know how many men I’ve killed, Vas?” Faraday asked.

Vasquez shook his head.

“Neither do I,” Faraday said. “It all started to blend together after awhile. I don’t remember their faces, but for a couple. I certainly don’t remember why it happened each time. That don’t feel too good. Makes me think I deserve all the shit I got. But I got a feeling you got a count.”

“Seven, before Rose Creek,” Vasquez said.

“And-?”

“And what?” Vasquez asked.

“And that doesn’t mean anything to you? That you remember it all that well?” Faraday asked.

“I’m not sure what difference it makes,” Vasquez said. “If we’re talking good vs. evil, my pile of sins is enough to put me on the wrong side.”

Faraday sighed, running his hands through his ever-rumpled hair. “You’re not getting it,” he said. “Some people are better than others, but we’re all fucked up, and I know you weren’t ever perfect. No offense. None of us were. So there’s no point in getting hung up on what’s in the past. Get up and keep moving. Learn from your mistakes. I never did. Pretty sure that’s what ended me up in the ground.”

“Your bravery ended you up in the ground,” Vasquez corrected, but his voice was gentle.

“Why, thank you,” Faraday said. “But I’m talking about the road up to it. Anyway, you see what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying I can move on from what I’ve done,” Vasquez said. “But even if I can, the world won’t. I’m still wanted.”

“So go make a fresh start somewhere,” Faraday said. “This ain’t the only country you can live in. Go back to Mexico. Go to Canada. Shit, you could cross one of the oceans. You know, I’m already dead, but it still kills me to see you living like you are, if you can call it living.”

Startled by the sudden sincerity, Vasquez found he couldn’t meet Faraday’s eyes, and instead he took a slow drink of the whiskey. 

“Tell me what your proudest moment is.” Faraday said. “And give me that glass.”

The glass scraped across the rough wood, and Vasquez began to speak. “The day my littlest sister first walked. I taught her.” His lips turned to a small smile as he let himself slip into memory. “She was late to do it, and we were worried. I kept trying with her. Then one day she did it. All on her own. Just went for it.” The smile strengthened. “It was beautiful.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and gradually the memory slipped away. “How about Rose Creek?” Faraday asked.

“That too,” Vasquez said. 

“There’s gotta be something in between,” Faraday said. “You love your heroics.”

Vasquez shrugged. “Did some random things I guess I’m proud of. Stopped some stagecoach bandits on the road. Broke out a girl that got captured by some highwaymen. I’ve gotten rid of some bad men.”

“You ever think about how those people you helped owe their lives to you?” Faraday asked.

“Not really,” Vasquez said. “Just felt I was doing what anyone would do.”

“No,” Faraday said. “To be honest with you, I likely wouldn’t’ve done what you did.”

“Yes, you would-”

“No,” Faraday said more firmly, and his face was dead serious. He tilted his chair back, considering, and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe if a pretty girl was involved. Otherwise, probably not.”

“...Oh.”

“You don’t see it, because you don’t get to be around people much. But whatever you think you are, you’re better than most,” Faraday said. “I’ve seen this country, met a lot of people, Vas. People like you are rare.”

He paused, but Vasquez didn’t speak. Maybe there  _ was _ something to what Faraday was saying. He wasn’t perfect, but perhaps it wasn’t about the balance of his deeds; perhaps what counted more was how he thought of them, what he regretted and what he was proud of, and what he would do next.

“I can almost see the wheels turning,” Faraday teased. “Don’t hurt yourself. And don’t get a big head - I’m just telling you this stuff because you’re too thick to figure it out yourself.”

Vasquez chuckled, but the laugh caught in his throat. “So you think I can be a good man?” The words came out hushed. Though he thought he knew what Faraday would say, he was somehow still scared to hear the answer.

“No,” Faraday said, and Vasquez looked up at him sharply, his brow furrowing. “You already are.”

The hurt melted, and Vasquez nodded slowly, and this time the warmth in his chest was real, not made by the liquor. 

“You believe me?” Faraday asked.

“I trust you, so… I guess so,” Vasquez said.

“Good,” Faraday said. “That wasn’t as hard as I thought. Pour us another, will you?”

“Of course.” Vasquez refilled the glass and handed it back to Faraday, who took a slow sip from it.

“So. Where do you think you’ll go?”

At the question, the options suddenly bloomed in Vasquez’s mind, Faraday’s encouragement opening a whole new range of ideas to him. “Maybe I  _ will _ go back to Mexico,” he said. “I think I could find a place there. Maybe start a farm.”

“You’d be good at that,” Faraday said. “And you wouldn’t even need oxen; you’re so damn big you could pull the plow yourself.”

Vasquez laughed, for real this time, and it had been so long since he had done it that it felt entirely foreign. “I’ll give it a shot,” he said.

“You could go to an island,” Faraday said. “Live out your days on the beach in Cuba or something like that.”

“That might be nice,” Vasquez said. 

“I can see you now, with a lady on each arm, sitting on the beach drinking rum out of a coconut,” Faraday said, and they both laughed this time, because the image was so far-fetched.

“I could go to Antarctica and live in an igloo and wear seal skins and hunt polar bears for dinner,” Vasquez said and Faraday laughed long and hard.

Then they were just drinking and producing more and more ludicrous ideas of how Vasquez could live out the rest of his life, their laughter louder and louder, filling the bleak little cabin with a warmth Vasquez hadn’t felt in so long. But he could feel himself growing tired, the liquor making his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier. He nodded off once, and as his head snapped back up, Faraday said,

“Well, I think it’s time for me to be going.”

“No horseback riding when you’re this drunk,” Vasquez said, and they both laughed again, far more than the joke deserved, but what was prompted by the amount of alcohol they had both consumed.

“Thanks for the booze,” Faraday said when they had calmed. He stood, pushing his chair back up to the table.

“Anytime,” Vasquez said. Then his face grew serious, the laughter fading from his eyes. “I won’t be seeing you again, will I?”

Faraday shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “I don’t think so. Bittersweet, innit?”

“Yeah.” Vasquez wanted to stand and embrace the other man, but he didn’t want to break the spell, and if he was hallucinating, he didn’t want to prove it. “Thank you, Joshua.”

Faraday smiled, and it was genuine and warm. “Of course. And Vas, I think I’m finally ready to admit - you are a better shooter than me.”

Vasquez’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth falling open. “I never thought-”

“I’m kidding!” Joshua exclaimed. “I was gonna say ‘you’re a better shooter over my dead body’ but, uh, too soon?”

Vasquez bounced his head, thinking. “A little.”

“You take care, now,” Faraday said, serious now. “Don’t make me haunt you.”

“I won’t,” Vasquez said, and he couldn’t tell if the last statement had been a joke. “You may think what you want about yourself, but I think you’re a good man too, for what it’s worth.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Faraday said. “But I’m quite at peace with myself having been a scoundrel for most of my life.”

“Very well,” Vasquez said. He knew he needed to say goodbye, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to.

“I’ll see you around, Vas.”

“See you, Güerito.”

When the door closed behind Faraday, Vasquez expected to feel a void open again, that emptiness that had consumed him of late. But it didn’t. He felt warm instead, and alive. But he was tired, and he crossed his arms on the table, laid his head on them, and went to sleep.

*****

Morning came with the twittering of birds and the ache of a fierce hangover. Vasquez groaned, sitting up straighter, his board-stiff neck cracking as he did so. His eyes settled on the chair across the table and he remembered everything suddenly. But in the light of the morning, it seemed much surer to have been just his imagination.

Then his eyes settled on the empty bottle on the far side of the table. It was far more than he would have drunk alone in a night, even at his worst.

He sat back in the chair, a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart. He didn’t need to know how it had happened. That it had was enough.


End file.
